And there was something else, goddamn it; something that kept evading Les; something that had bothered him when he'd first developed the print. Let's see, what is this guy's name? The ambulance intern found it in his jacket pocket on a half-torn identification card. William Matson.
But, damn it, there was something else.
"Mr. Lester—King?"
"Right. What can I do for you?"
"I had trouble in locating—you. I wish to make a—purchase."
Queer duck. Damned queer. "What can I sell you?"
"You are a—photographer. You took a picture of a man injured on Park—Avenue. I wish to buy that—picture."
Les knotted his robe and stepped back. "Sure. Come on in."
The man entered the room and stood silent while Les got out his file. "What do you want it for?" he asked.
"It is for my personal—use."